


Pas de Deux

by hiddenoptimist



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Dancer Harry, Ballet Dancer Louis, Crossdressing, Hate Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4347701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenoptimist/pseuds/hiddenoptimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is easily the best danseur in the New Thames Ballet Company without trying. Louis hates him for this, and struggles to improve. An impromptu lesson after hours turns into so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pas de Deux

“You don’t always have to keep your back so straight, you know.”

Louis turned towards the doorway. In the mirrored room, the lone figure slowly approaching him looked like a thousand haloed angels descending from heaven. He couldn’t make out the figure’s features enough to work out exactly who was coming towards him, but from the voice he could discern who it was. He turned back to the mirror with disdain, though he couldn’t help but keep an eye on the figure’s reflection.

“Let me help you,” the figure offered.

“I can do it by myself,” Louis snapped. “Just because I’m not the  _fabulous Harry Styles_  doesn’t mean I’m completely incompetent.”

Harry stopped a few feet away. “I’m only trying to be nice. I’ve never understood why you don’t like me.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never been in anyone’s shadow. Leave me alone, Harry.”

Louis realised he was being harsh, but it was getting late and he was too weary to care. The muscles in his hands burned from gripping the barre too tightly. Much to Louis’ dismay, Harry stayed where he was, watching mutely. All his after class practising had led to an increased precision and elegance in his barre exercises. Now, under Harry’s gaze, Louis found himself flustered and anxious.

Harry was the best danseur in the New Thames Ballet Company. He was always so graceful, carrying himself with a level of elegance that Louis could only dream of achieving. Both boys had joined in the same month when they had been much younger. There had been ten danseurs back then. Now there were only two. The ballet mistress had spotted Harry’s talent immediately, and had spent all of her time making sure he did nothing but improve. Harry was the reason the other danseurs had quit, or found other companies.

Despite the lack of attention, Louis continued to dance in the company. He was nowhere near as good as Harry - he lacked the boy’s natural flexibility and talent - but Louis loved ballet. He wouldn’t give it up for the world, even if it meant taking a permanent back seat within the company.

The lack of encouragement Louis received had led him to begin practising in the studio long after everyone else had gone home. He’d thought he was the only one to stay in the building, but apparently Harry hadn’t left either.

“Honestly, don’t keep your back so straight,” Harry repeated.

Louis turned to glare at him. “Keeping a straight back is one of the most important-”

“Aspects of dancing, yeah, I know,” Harry interrupted. He grinned, stepping closer. “Louis, your back is  _rigid_. You’re limiting your flexibility.”

“And how do you suggest I fix that?”

“Like this.”

Harry came closer still, pressing one large, warm hand against the small of Louis’ back. Louis pulled away almost immediately, but event hat small point of contact between them had made him relax a little.

Harry looked hurt. “I’m only trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“Are you sure? I’m here anyway, and it couldn’t help.” Louis turned away. Harry was silent for a moment, then, “I do know what it’s like to be in someone’s shadow, you know. My uncle ran the London Ballet Company. He taught me how to dance.” Harry brightened. “I could teach you the same way he taught me!”

“I just said-”

“Come on, Louis, it’ll be fun. And what do you have to lose? If it doesn’t work out, we can both walk away and never speak to each other again. Deal?”

Louis hesitated, pressing both hands against the barre behind him. Harry’s wide eyes made him look a lot younger than he actually was, and Louis had never been one to resist children. He sighed in defeat, and stepped towards the danseur.

“Where do we begin?” he asked.

Harry grinned, sprinting to his bag by the door. “Take off your clothes.”

Louis frowned. “What?”

“Take off your clothes. It’ll make you more flexible.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Harry.”

“Does that matter? You’ll be a lot more relaxed, promise.”

Louis shrugged, but pulled off his clothes. He kicked them aside, crossing his ankles. The studio was unnaturally warm, and Harry was taking his time digging through his bag. Louis began to wonder about Harry’s uncle’s teaching methods.

Harry came running back over to him, holding out a lilac tutu. “Put this on,” he said, slightly out of breath. “It won’t restrict you, but it will cover you.”

Louis pulled on the tutu as Harry removed his clothes. Harry’s clothes joined Louis’ in the pile on the floor, and Louis couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous as he stood opposite the other boy. Though Harry was younger, he was a lot taller than Louis, and the older boy couldn’t help but feel intimidated by what Harry was freely exposing in front of him. He was grateful for the little cover the tutu provided.

Harry rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get started.”

The boys worked on Louis’ posture and his flexibility first. After the first while, Louis felt a lot more relaxed about having Harry’s hands on his bare skin. In time, the younger danseur’s skin against his became almost a guilty pleasure. When Harry cupped Louis’ thighs to lift his leg higher, long fingers stretching all the way around his leg, Louis could barely resist blushing. Their reflection in the mirror, two boys in nothing but one lilac tutu dancing closely together, made Louis avert his eyes. Harry didn’t seem to see anything inherently sexual in their actions, but Louis was grateful for the tutu and Harry’s gaze being seemingly fixed on the mirrors lining the walls.

“Go up on your toes and put your right leg up on the barre,” Harry instructed, stepping back to watch Louis attempt it by himself.

Louis could hold the position for no more than a few seconds before his leg came crashing down to the floor. He twisted sheepishly, caught Harry’s mildly disappointed gaze, and tried again. In the mirror, he could see Harry backing off to his bag by the door again. He’d been closer to the bag before, looking as though he was going to fetch something, but Louis had always managed to follow his orders successfully before Harry really needed it. Now, the younger boy was kneeling beside his bag with a frown.

Louis’ ankle hit the floor again, and he cringed in pain. Ballet dancing was painful, he’d learnt that over the years, and the bang was nothing serious. He raised his leg again, closing his eyes as his thighs stretched and burned.

“You need to go higher on your toes,” Harry muttered, suddenly behind him again. Louis opened his eyes in shock as Harry’s wet fingers probed between his cheeks.

“What-” Louis gasped as one of Harry’s fingers slipped into him. “Do you seriously carry lube in your dance bag?”

“It helps,” Harry replied mildly, pressing his finger in further. “Do you mind?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”

Louis met his own gaze in the mirror. His face was flushed pink, both from the exercise and the embarrassment. Harry didn’t seem affected at all - in fact, this seemed like a normal practice for him. His finger pushed further into Louis, bringing a different burn to the older boy’s lower half and pushing him higher onto his toes.

“That’s it,” Harry said approvingly. He drew his finger out a little and Louis sagged. “You have to stay up on your toes. I’ll give you two if you can hold the position.”

Louis deliberated. On one hand, his legs really hurt, and he didn’t think he could stay like this much longer. On the other, the pain of Harry’s finger had given way to a strange kind of pleasure, and he wanted more. With a deep breath, Louis held the position, feeling his thighs burn and his toes tremble with his weight. Harry waited a minute to see if he’d collapse, then slipped another finger into him.

Louis gasped, his soft pink lips forming an ‘o’. Harry was pressed against his back, intimately close, two fingers inside Louis. His other hand was pushing the tutu further up Louis’ waist.

“You look really, really good like this,” Harry murmured, reaching around with his free hand to make a loose fist around Louis’ cock. He dotted Louis’ shoulder with tiny kisses. “So pretty in your tutu.”

“ _Harry_.”

Louis bit down on his lip. He hadn’t meant to moan the danseur’s name, especially considering he couldn’t stand the boy at the beginning of the evening. Now, with two long, slender fingers curling elegantly inside him (everything Harry did was elegant, and Louis couldn’t work out exactly how he did it), the long-haired dancer had never looked more desirable. Louis reckoned he just looked like a slut.

“You know, sex is really just a dance,” Harry was saying. Louis focused on his voice instead of his fingers. “Just a pas de deux - a dance for two.”

“Unless it’s a threesome,” Louis said, before he could stop himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, mortified that he’d made it look like Harry wasn’t enough for him.

Harry just laughed. “That’s not really a dance,” he agreed. “That’s more of a mess.”

“And how would you know that?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve done my time.”

“Where? Prison?”

“Cheeky.” Louis cried out as Harry’s ring finger slipped into him. "You so don't deserve this."

"What, were you planning on fucking me?"

Harry's fingers stopped. "Would you be pissed if I said yes?"

"I'm a little pissed that you didn't ask me first," Louis mumbled. The silver band around Harry's index finger was pressing against his walls and the cold sensation was muddling his brain. "What if I didn't want you to?"

"But do you want me to?"

Louis smirked and let Harry's anxious gaze in the mirror. "Would you be pissed if I said yes?"

Harry grinned and relaxed, sliding his fingers out. He ran back over to his bag and run aged through it again. Without Harry's comforting presence, Louis' attention was brought back to the burning in his thighs.

"Can I put my leg down now?" he asked.

Harry looked up. "Yeah. Hold one leg above your head, other hand on the barre."

Louis held the new position, ignoring the pain as he watched Harry tear open a silver square. He rolled the condom on, wiping the excess lube over Louis' thighs and laughing at the older boy's shiver.  The tutu was scratching Louis' legs, but Harry's cock nudging at his hole pushed the discomfort out of his mind. Harry's hands rested on his waist, his fingers almost meeting around Louis' slender hips. He reached past Louis' upright leg to kiss him, and Louis watched as his cheeks turned pink.

"I figured the kiss comes before the fuck, right?" Harry's voice was quiet now, his touch as soft as a ghost.

Louis let go of the barre for a moment, intending to cup Harry's cheeks and kiss away his embarrassment, but he lost his balance and wobbled. Only Harry's grip kept him upright. They kissed again, longer this time, savouring the taste of each other.

Harry was the warmth of an autumn evening, orange-reds and wool blankets. He tasted of cinnamon and pumpkin, sticky chocolate collected on a cold Halloween night.

Louis was crisp like a summer afternoon, fresh greens and sun-kissed skin. His lips tasted like strawberry ice cream and bitter lemonade all at once, gentle as a summer breeze.

Together, they were fireworks.

Harry slid his hands lower until they cupped Louis’ round bum, taking some of the weight from his toes. He pressed himself closer, the tip of his cock slipping past Louis’ tight muscles. Louis moaned into Harry’s mouth, accidentally biting down on his lip. He pulled away embarrassed, tasting blood.

“Sorry,” Louis muttered, the word catching in his throat as Harry slid in a little further.

Harry grinned, revealing the tiny puncture wound on the inside of his bottom lip from Louis’ sharp little teeth. “It’s okay. How are you doing?”

“I might die from impatience if you don’t hurry up.”

Harry laughed, nuzzling his face into Louis’ collarbone as he pushed in further, still hesitant, sensing Louis’ every move. He was terrified it would be too much for Louis - he didn’t know if the older boy had ever done this before, and he knew his own first time had left him in agony. Louis was taking it like a pro, even with his leg still stretched up in the air.

“Fast enough for you?” Harry asked, feeling his hips against Louis’ skin.

“You do everything so slowly,” Louis grumbled. “Can I put my leg down?”

“No.”

“Too late.”

Louis draped his leg over Harry’s shoulder, grinning widely when the taller boy glared at him. He linked his arms around Harry’s neck and lifted himself off the ground, somehow managing to hook his other leg around Harry’s waist. Harry struggled to catch him.

“Shit- Louis, get down, I can’t hold you like this.”

“Yes you can. Picture me as a pretty ballerina.”

“ _I am_ , but that doesn’t mean I can hold you in this position. I’m going to end up dropping you!”

“Put me down then.”

“That’s harder than it looks.” Harry sighed, and began to lower Louis to the floor. “You’re a pain in the arse, you know that?”

“Actually, right now-”

“Don’t say it.”

“- _you’re_  the pain in  _my_ arse.”

Harry slid out of Louis and dropped him on the floor. Despite only being a few inches from the laminate, Louis groaned loudly in pain. Harry raised his eyebrows at him.

“Finished?” he asked.

“Yeah. Enough with the positions now, just fuck me.”

“Say please.”

Louis glared at him. “Fuck me  _please_.”

Harry lifted the lilac tutu out of the way, exposing the top of Louis’ pale thighs and his cock, lying fat and heavy against his hip. He licked the tip of his finger and watched Louis’ face scrunch up as he lightly dragged his finger down the smaller boy’s cock. With a laugh that sounded too much like a cackle to Louis, Harry lifted and spread his thighs so he could kneel between them.

“Ready?” Harry asked.

“I’ve been ready for ten minutes now,” Louis complained. “You’re so fucking slow- shit!”

“What were you saying?” Harry asked, bottoming out with his hips pressed to Louis’ cheeks.

“Nothing,” Louis replied, suddenly breathless. “Move. Move now, please.”

Harry rested his hands on the floor beside Louis’ hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the other boy’s skin. Louis tilted his head back and closed his eyes, body moving across the floor with every one of Harry’s thrusts. Harry leaned over him, pressing light kisses to his jaw and chest, the tutu pinned between both of their bodies. He raised his left hand, holding himself up with just his right, and gently touched Louis’ slightly parted, plump pink lips. Louis opened his eyes and lifted his own hand, clasping Harry’s fingers.

Harry paused to lie his right arm beneath Louis’ head, giving him something softer than the floor to rest on, and continued with his front rubbing against Louis’ tummy. Louis’ eyes flickered shut again and he arched his back, pressing into Harry urgently. Harry sponged kisses along his jawline and on the soft, exposed skin beneath his chin which fluttered with uneven breaths.

Louis slid one arm around Harry’s waist, keeping the younger boy close to him. He lowered his chin and caught Harry’s lips in his, gasping quietly into his mouth. “You’re very good at this,” he whispered.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Harry replied, his voice breaking on the last word. He could feel his climax building. “Are you...?”

“Falling in love with you? Absolutely.” Louis’ eyes crinkled as he smiled and kissed him again. “But I’m also definitely, definitely about to cum.”

“Good. Me too.” Harry pressed his forehead to Louis’ collarbone. “On the count of three?”

“I don’t think I can do this on command.”

Harry laughed. “We’ll have to work on that then.”

Louis’ back arched again as he came. Harry slid his arms around his raised waist and held him there, admiring every curve of his slight body. Louis had the body of a ballerina, Harry decided; petite and slim, lightweight and graceful.

“Look at that,” Harry murmured, pressing kisses to Louis’ eyelids. “Isn’t it so much better when your back isn’t rigid?”

Louis frowned at him. “Is that the only reason you fucked me?”

“No, I had other reasons too.” Harry held Louis tight to him, refusing to let go even when the other boy tried to wriggle free. “Stop. You’re ruining this.”

“You’re the clingy one.”

Harry pulled out, catching the condom as it fell from him. Louis’ frown returned.

“You came? You’re almost too quiet.”

Harry shrugged. “It was just a lot less hassle that way when I was younger.”

He got up, tying the condom as he walked over to the small metal bin by the door. Louis stayed on the floor, flattening out his tutu over his hips again - Harry would have to wash it, there was cum on the underside - until he returned to lie beside him.

“Pas de deux,” Harry muttered, taking Louis’ hand. “Easy, right?”

“I think I just had an extraordinary partner.” Louis raised their joined hands to his lips, kissing Harry’s knuckles. “So that was how your uncle trained you, huh?”

Harry blushed. “It’s weird and wrong and... I wish it hadn’t happened, but at the same time I’m kind of glad. I wouldn’t be this good without him.” He bit his lip. “No one else knows. Could you- could you not say anything? To anyone?”

“Harry...”

“I know. I really know. But please.”

Louis hesitated. “Fine. But if you need to talk about it, you come talk to me, okay?”

“Deal.” Harry leaned over and kissed him. “And if you need more help, come and find me instead of trying to practice by yourself. Bad practice is worse than not practising, you know.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but nodded. He admired their joined hands; Harry’s enveloped his completely, his skin more tanned. Their entwined fingers were a convergence of the sun and the moon, particularly in the rose-coloured glow of the setting sun pooling on the floor around them from the rectangular windows set high in the walls. Around them, the mirrors sparkled even in the dim lighting.

“Here,” Louis said, shimmying out of the tutu without releasing Harry’s hand. “You should probably wash this.”

Harry chuckled, tossing the tutu to the side. “Nice.”

“Is that all that’s in your bag, by the way? Kinky ballerina shit?”

“I do have some flavoured condoms and a nice blue romantic tutu that would look amazing on you.”

“Well that’s settled then.” Louis sat up and kissed Harry, before getting to his feet. He grabbed his bundle of clothes. “Stay behind tomorrow night, and make sure you’ve got your condoms and your tutu.” His eyes glinted as he began to walk backwards towards the door. “It’s my turn to teach you. I’ll bring the handcuffs.”

Louis grinned, blew Harry a kiss, and turned his back on him, leaving the studio still naked. Harry sat on the laminate and laughed quietly to himself. He didn’t make any move to go home until the studio had grown dark.


End file.
